Will The Sunset Ever Rise Again?
by TheWildeFiles
Summary: Elsa lost hope in falling in love a long time ago. But that hope was renewed once her gaze met with those eyes that resembled that of a sun set. Summery sucks, i know. Will make it better in the future, please read! [KistoffxAnna] - [ElsaxOC] rated T for intense romance and battle scenes


**Okay, so I'm being lazy. Truthfully, I'm experimenting. I have Writers Block with 'My Beloved Guardian' so I've decided to start give you my very first thought of a story when I first saw Frozen. Honestly, this has been driving me mad. I've always dreamed of creating Elsa's significant other. **

**I want desperately to be original, including with my OC(s). The most common OC for Elsa is featured as a black-haired amber-eyed muscular male. Why? Because it's simply awesome-looking. Now, I've read almost every fanfiction and witnessed a particularly typical pattern. Handsome stranger injures himself doing something heroic. I'm particularly fond of Elsa's significant other being anything BUT royalty. I've also found some fanfics that just made the OC just TOO perfect. That's just not right. It also doesn't make it interesting. We all know Elsa has flaws, why can't the OC have some of his own. I've also noticed how popular Female slashes are. Are you friggin' kidding me? Now, I don't want to offend anybody out there when I say this, but that's just not right. So I read, researched, and practiced with my OC and I find him awesome. He has his flaws, he has his perks. **

**I have been spending the last few weeks experimenting with Anna, Elsa, Kristoff and so on's personalities. I watched the movie over and over and documented their reaction to curtain things or comments, and surprisingly enough, Elsa's personality is the hardest to comprehend. She is really melancholy for most of the movie so I can understand when I read a fanfic and see her being quite the cold-shoulder. I've also discovered a spark of playfulness at the end, when she's ice skating with Anna. Kristoff was complicated as well, being disagreeable and stubborn most of the time, not to mention grumpy. But when you look closer you also see that he is shy and quite hesitant toward physical affection. He also isn't the smoothest around the ladies. Olaf is difficult as well. I've read many fanfictions that made Olaf simply stupid and naïve. They got him all wrong, Olaf is just inexperienced. He had just been alive for half a night and a bit into the morning before meeting Anna, Kristoff and Sven. Olaf is actually pretty smart, if a bit naïve. Yes I do admit he can be a little…. Strange at times. But I hope I got him down just right.**

**Like I said, being original reels in the readers. Being a reader means that you're curious, and a new plot with new characters will definitely draw ones attention. Oh how wrong I was. I've experimented that hypothesis, I got 2 reviews (for which I'm grateful for) but not enough for me to feel happy about my story. I've discovered that the more typical fanfics are more popular because they are leaves from the trunk of the tree. It's all simply too enjoyable. I seriously hope you find my upcoming story enjoyable.**

**Enough of my rambling, I'd have a heart attack if any of you actually read that junk. **

**I must want you, this is a family effort. Well, okay. No. My friends are my family so… I guess it is my a family effort. So m bestest of buddies are helping me with this story, so this isn't all meh, so yeh… Yolo. **

**Oh. Hey. Guess what. I don't own Frozen. Dang.**

**-Charles **

An arrow whispered through the shadows of the night and thudded into the trunk of a tree, an inch from the face of a sleeping young man. Ever a light sleeper, the young man jerked half awake, his left hand gripping the hilt of his sword. He blinked blearily into the night, not noticing the arrow lodged into the tree right beside him.

At his left sat a giant turtle shell. A tremor from within the shell and from its holes came two stubby legs, two short rocky arms and a stone head with a large nose and bright, violet eyes.

A hermit troll. A distant cousin to the Arendellian trolls.

The hermit troll stared in alarm at the arrow that pierced the tree. He immediately lunged over to the sleeping young man.

"Bugda says wake up! Bugda says wake up!" his voice was scratchy and urgent. The young man grumbled.

"W-w-what now?" his stutter was not caused by the cold, nor confusion. It was natural.

Another arrow hissed through the darkness and across the clearing, lodging itself deep into a tree.

"Hunters found us! Bugda says run!" Budga hissed at the now fully awake and alarmed young man.

"Hunters? Impossible, we l-lost them at Tyre!"

At that moment, five cloaked figures burst into the clearing, charging straight toward the duo.

The young man struggled to his feet, his sword drawn. He swore under his breath. Bugda yelped in fear and scrambled away.

There were five cloaked figures. One of them held a crossbow; another drew twin daggers while the other three gripped swords, flashing in the moonlight. The young man heard Bugda shout from the bushes.

"Bugda says run! Bugda says run!"

Too late.

The nearest man closed the distance between them with frightening speed and slashed outward with his blade. The young man parried and pivoted away, dodging an arrow from the crossbow. The cloaked man's friends soon locked themselves in a furious battle with the young man. Swords flashing and sparks flying. Five against one.

Zale watched the queen with growing lust. She was perfect in every way. Queen Elsa was poised, graceful, stunningly, ridiculously beautiful.

The dictator's eyes scanned the Queen's body, his envy for her growing with every passing moment. She was chatting away with her brat of a sister, Princess Anna. The girl had made it pretty clear how she felt about Zale courting Elsa. But the dictator was patient. He would have her by the end of the weak. The other suitors didn't stand a fighting chance. It was a game, and Zale was bound to win.

Parry. Slash. Pivot. Duck. Kick.

It was a dance of death, and the young man knew this. He was outmatched. He had to run.

Grunting, the young man blocked a vicious blow of a sword, dropping down to one knee. A boot shot out and cracked against his ribs. He young man rolled away and sprung to his feet, his blade arched, digging deep into the shoulder of one of his opponents, then he spun and seized a dagger that was hurtling toward his face and flung it back at the man who'd thrown it. The cloaked figure dove to the right, dodging the dagger.

His back was to the foliage of the forest. The young man's eyes darted between the hunters, and then he spun around, and fled.

Zale chuckled to himself as he leaned against wall of the ballroom. He watched as one of the more awkward princes stumble over his letters as he attempted to talk with the queen. Elsa, apparently finding it amusing, hid her giggles behind her hand.

The prince found a way to excuse himself and speed-walked away from the queen, accidentally bumping into one of the buss-boys, knocking him over. The prince, blushing from embarrassment, attempted to help the servant up, only to slip and fall.

Unable to hold it in any longer, the queen burst into laughter along with her sister. Blushing, the prince hurried from the ballroom. Zale smirked. That fumbling oaf didn't deserve such a woman anyway.

Now that the queen was alone, Zale was going o make his move.

Things couldn't get more perfect.

The young man believed nothing could be more of a living hell. He expertly weaved through the forest, lunging over rocks, rolling under low branches, and slicing through branches he felt no need in avoiding. The hunters were closing fast. He could hear them.

A dagger flashed, barely brushing is face as it disappeared into the foliage ahead. He felt blood on his cheek. That was gonna leave a scar.

The young man broke from the foliage of the forest and staggered onto a dirt path. It stretched left and to the right. Left or right. He had to choose.

The young man dashed to his left. He was left handed after all.

"My queen," Zale liked how his voice sounded so smooth and deep. He held out his hand to Elsa, who had hidden her emotions beneath a clever mask. Seconds before she was cheerful and laughing, now was poised and emitted a defiant aura of dignity.

"Do you mind if I steal you for a dance?" He smirked.

Elsa opened her mouth to respond but the princess interrupted.

"Yes, I'm afraid my _sister_, here, does very much mind." Anna glared at him. "We were having a sisterly moment, now if you excu-,"

"Anna," Elsa's voice was calm, but reprimanding, "I believe that I make the decisions of with whom I dance with,"

Anna huffed, "but he's so much like 'you know who',"

Zale cocked an eyebrow. He didn't know who. But with Elsa's astonished answer, this 'you know who' was obviously bad.

The young man soon realized that he had only encountered a few of the hunters. Six were now trailing him on the path. He also realized that taking the path was a bad idea.

Arrows whizzed pass his head, each one coming so close that he could feel the breeze from the arrows as they whispered pass his head. He couldn't see the arrows clearly because the full moon was blotted out by the clouds. Just his luck.

_Thunk._

A sharp pain erupted in his left thigh and spread through his leg. The young man grunted as his left leg crippled as he stepped forth. He dropped down to one knee, grimacing. Acting on the instinct of a warrior, the young man's hand shot out behind his thigh and grasped his shaft of the arrow that pierced him. With a sharp jerk and another grunt, he tugged the arrow from his leg and continued to run, ignoring the pain, for he had felt much worse.

Zale managed to Cajole Elsa onto the dancing floor. The music was soft and calm, giving the air of a slow dance. The dictator stared down at the woman in his arms with greed in his eyes.

The queen failed to notice, for her mind was far from the dance. She hadn't wanted to join King Zale onto the dance floor. She had to agree with Anna, something was quite… off about him, though she couldn't figure it out. She wanted nothing more than to finish the dance and rejoin her sister.

Zale had other things in mind.

The young man banked right off the path, following a narrow, twisted deer path. As he ran a branch struck his face. One lashed against is arm, ripping his sleeve and drawing a thin line of blood. The young man barely noticed.

No matter his efforts of escaping the hunters, they were still closing in. The young man sprung from the ground and braced a boot to the trunk of a tree. He then pushed off the trunk, throwing himself higher and grasped a branch. The young man then hauled himself up, and took to the trees.

This chase had just sprung to a new level. The cloaked figures didn't hesitate to follow, mimicking the young man's grace fluently.

"Have you chosen which suitor you are to marry?"

"Huh?!" Elsa shot from her reverie. The question from Zale was so quick and blunt that it caught the queen off guard.

The dictator chuckled at the queen's surprise.

"Oh, um, no. I am afraid I have not, King Zale," Elsa answered, recovering from her surprise.

Said dictator inwardly smirked. _That could be fixed._

"May I ask why? With so many handsome princes to choose from surely one of them can thaw your frozen heart,"

Elsa hid a scoff. _That, Zale, would be completely and utterly impossible._

The young man was born to accomplish the impossible, such as keeping a respectable pace through the pathways of branches. He swung, jumped, and crouched through the trees, barely even hesitating.

The cloaked hunters followed close behind with a grace the equaled that of the young man.

The young man scaled farther up the trunk of the tree and swung onto a branch, then he leaping from the branch and landed on a lower yet thicker one. At the very moment he regained balance, the branch shook with the force and weight of a cloaked figure landing beside him.

The young man drew his sword and faced the hunter, who mirrored his actions.

"If I were to find love, I would want to find it myself. Not for it to find me, King Zale," Elsa said.

_She obviously feels uncomfortable in my presence. _Zale mused, _and not in a good way._

It was reaching midnight. The party was almost over. Elsa would have to make her decision on whom of whom to marry within a month. It was Arendellian law, placed there by the King, and Queen Elsa had no intention in breaking her father's wishes. But could she do such a thing, marry? Anna hadn't even married yet, Kristoff hasn't even proposed.

Elsa sighed and glanced up at King Zale.

He was, without a shadow of a doubt, a stunningly handsome man. With black hair slicked back and jade green eyes topped off with alabaster skin much alike her own. But what unnerved her was the lack of emotion in those eyes. The same eyes of the man who had tried to kill both her and her sister.

The young man's antagonist's buddies were watching from a distance as they clashed swords upon the branch. Sparks flew as the men battled, their skill at sword play perfectly matched.

The young man tilted his head back slightly, narrowly avoiding a vicious thrust of his opponent's blade. He stepped back, dodging again and slashed downward, his sword slicing right through the branch he was standing on. The cloaked figure saw this and lunged forward, desperate to reach the remaining portion of the branch that was still connected to the tree. Unfortunately, that current space was occupied.

The young man kicked the cloaked man in the chest; sending him plummeting twelve feet to the ground. He cringed when he heard the crunching of bone. The cloaked figure hadn't uttered a noise, and somehow, that was more skin-tingling then screaming and crying. It was inhuman.

Zale's mind was spinning. He was getting nowhere with the queen. Every layered suggestive comment was thrown back into his face immediately by the queen. It was infuriating. She was to be _his._ And he was willing to do whatever it takes to have her.

Zale glanced up, over Queen Elsa's head. His gaze landed upon a bubbly redhead. She was fuming as she watched him dance with her sister. When Anna saw him watching her, she suck her tongue out and pointed two fingers at her eyes, then pointed those same fingers to him. The universal sign that read, 'I got my eyes on you, buster.'

The young man burst from the tree tops, tuck and rolling into a clearing. An arrow shot over his shoulder.

_How many arrows do these guys have?!_

The young man was so caught up in his adrenaline influenced frenzy to notice that he was running straight for a cliff, and once he did, he halted in his tracks. He cursed fiercely.

He glanced back just in time to see this cloaked pursuers break through the cover of the trees and dash tirelessly toward him.

The young man stood with his back to the cliff, watching them approach. Once the cloaked hunters realized that he had nowhere to go, that he was trapped, they slowed to a leisurely pace then stopped once they were five feet from him.

There were now about eight of them, three with crossbows, four with swords, and one with twin daggers flashing in the moonlight.

The young man glanced up at the full moon, and watched as she filled her apex. It was midnight.

Zale wanted to shove Elsa aside and storm over to that brat and strike her across the face. But he knew that even unkindness toward her sister would enrage Elsa, instead Zale's mind began to whirl.

A devious diagram of thought was taking shape within his mind.

The ballroom was barely empty now, beside bustling servants and a few tired guests. The music finished and Elsa pried herself from Zale's grasp. She gave him a soft, meaningless smile.

"It is midnight, King Zale. I must get my rest. Tomorrow will be a very busy day. Excuse me."

Zale watched in silence was Elsa made her way over to her sister. The two were very attached to each other, Zale noticed.

The dictator wondered how the queen was to react if Anna were to have an… Incident. A quite fatal one. No doubt she would grieve. She might even plummet the world into the next ice age.

The young man watched as the four cloaked men with swords advanced deliberately. Their swords held loosely, thinking this was the end of the line for their target.

The young man took a step back, his heal knocked a few pebbles over the side of the cliff. He could feel the blood coating the left leg of his pants. He was going to die of blood loss anytime soon. Not the honorable death the young man dreamed of. Then again, the young man never dreamed of dying.

Zale made his way to his chambers. He was in no rush. The dictator bore a content grin as he sulked in the shadows of the hallway. It was all so devilishly perfect. He turned to his right and turned the knob to the door of his chambers. Closing the door behind him, Zale quickly stepped across the room to the balcony doors, his head spinning with thoughts of underhanded treachery.

He opened the doors and stepped into the moonlight. Placing his hands behind his back and spreading his legs wide, Zale tilted his head up toward the full moon. A cruel grin broke through his handsome features.

_Kill that brat of a princess._

_-X-_

The young man glanced back over the edge of the cliff. The moonlight illuminated the rapids of a river.

He looked back at the cloaked hunters, smirking. The wraith-like figures all dove at once, swords arching simultaneously. The young man took a step back, and over the edge of the cliff and into the rapid river below.

_The queen will grieve of course. _

_-X-_

A dark, stunning coldness. The arctic temperature of the river shocked the young man, as it dragged him along. Shocked him enough to lose the breath that he stores away in his lungs.

A deep darkness tugged at his vision, dragging him deeper from consciousness, and from consciousness, from life. The river continued to drag in limp form, the waters speeding up with every passing second.

The young man's body was jostled about with the ever growing current. Boulders became for frequent in the river, the carriage sized rocks jutting out from the surface of the tide. The young brushed against and boulder, then the water drew him back, then slammed him forth back into the rock.

The young man's body began to sluggishly slip back toward the rushing tide. Just had his waist was completely submerged, his fingers curled into the crevasses of the boulder, holding him in place.

-X-

_And I will be the only one there for her. The only one there to comfort Elsa._

_-X-_

The young man hacked and coughed water onto the surface of the boulder, vomiting. His limbs. trembled from weakness; the water had washed away the blood, though the pain still lingered.

He pulled himself fully onto the rock and sat up, his head bowed. Water dripped from his chin and hair. The young man's arm came up and, without looking, tore off his right sleeve and began to wrap it around his injured thigh. He grimaced in pain as he tightened the cloth up against his wound. Once he was finished, the young man's hand rested o the hilt of his sword. He hadn't noticed that he had sheathed the blade as he fell toward the young man heaved a miserable sigh, and then a thought appeared in his head. _Bugda._ Where was the little hermit troll now? Had he followed? Was he safe? A tingling sensation ran up is spine. He knew that feeling all too well.

Danger.

Heading straight for you.

In the shape of an arrow.

-X-

_Elsa, of course, will appreciate my false concern. _

_-X-_The young man lay flat on his back, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectile. He sprung to his feet, eyes wide in shock. Cloaked figures were jumping from, boulder to boulder, swiftly making their way over to their target.

_These lunatics never give up do they?_

He young man spun and lunged blindly to the next boulder, barely closing the distance. He planted both bots onto the boulder before making a running start and lunging for the next boulder. Another arrow. Missed. Barely.

The young man noticed a cloaked figure to his right, lunging from boulder to boulder. They both jumped at the same time. Both landed on the same boulder. With giving it absolutely no thought whatsoever, the young man shoved the hunter into the white rapids below.

Lunging for the next boulder, the young man couldn't help but notice the lack of river ahead. He couldn't help but notice the enclose of air. A waterfall. Duh. That's why the tide picked up speed.

The boulder he stood upon jutted a few feet over the roaring abyss. The young man turned and watched as the cloaked figures hastily made their way over to him. Exhaustion was weighing on his shoulders and mind, which was why he didn't notice one of the hunters raise his crossbow, and fire.

A click.

A hiss.

A thud.

The young man gasped as he staggered back, staring at the arrow lodged in his chest. His mouth was agape, and he grunted in pain as it began to register. He stood there for an instant, before drawing his blade, facing two more cloaked hunters as they landed on his boulder, swords flashing in the moonlight.

Slash, parry, stab. He took a step back as one cloaked figure's blade arched forward, narrowly missing his shoulder. The young man saw his opening and thrust his blade forth. The hunter dodged, but on account to the lack of space on the boulder, practically threw himself into the water.

Click.

Hiss.

_Thud._

The young man staggered back again, his vision becoming blurry. Another arrow in his chest.

Click.

_Hiss._

_Thud._

Another gasp from the young man as the pain wretched his gut. His knees gave way.

He sat there, on his knees, and was vaguely discerning the dark shape of a cloaked hunter. The young man a shout of defiance and swung wildly, lunging back to his feet. The cloaked figure stood ridged, do to his shock. A black cut through his chest and he topple off the boulder.

_Click._

_Hiss._

_Thud._

The young man took in a sharp intake of breath and he fell to his knees once again. His fingers felt numb, so he did not feel his sword slip from his grasp. But he heard the clank of steel against rock.

His head bowed, is eyes squeezed shut. His fists clenched. His teeth gritted. His breath ragged.

The sounded of arrogant boot steps. A cold chuckle. The tip of a dagger lifting his chin to face a hooded form. A hand rose and pulled back the hood.

The man had pale skin, close cropped blonde hair, and crooked nose, and so many scars they appeared to be wrinkles of age. A familiar face. Yet so different from the young man's. He recognized the hunter.

"K-Kaine," he growled through a clenched jaw.

The man grimaced, or was that a grin? He leaned over so come face-to-face with the young man.

"Well, if it isn't Crusoe (Crew-so), the stuttering w-w-wonder," Kaine mocked Crusoe's speech disability by stuttering the end of the sentence, his voice taunting.

"Nine long years I've waited for this very moment Crusoe, nine long years,"

The young man's eyes flashed at the sounded of his name.

"I was beginning to believe that this moment would never come, _brother_," at the last word Kaine spat, and twisted an arrow that was lodged in Crusoe' chest, who grimaced in pain.

-X-

_I will bide my time. She will warm up to me. She will begin to relax in my presence. What is there to stand in my way? _

-X-

A wrenched the arrow from Crusoe's chest. The young man bit back a curse and a yowl of pain. He could feel his life slipping away. Kaine watched his brother with a growing smirk.

-X-

_Absolutely nothing._

-X-

"There is only room for one man on the throne, little brother,"

Kaine braced his boot against his brother's chest.

"Only one,"

He shoved the young man back with his boot, and watched him topple over the edge of the boulder, and fall into the abyss below.

Crusoe mouth lay agape, but no sound spewed forth. As he plummeted toward the foot of the water fall below, the young man released a silent scream, in which nobody heard, nor cared.

-X-

_Nothing at all._

**Woooh. Hoo boy. Well, there ya have it! Please leave a review! It means a lot to me. Fav or follow if you like!**

**Cookies for everyone who reviews, favorites, and follows!**

**Don't kill meh….**


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